


love goes on and on

by wolfwalkerspirit



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post Episode 9, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwalkerspirit/pseuds/wolfwalkerspirit
Summary: “The fond smile that slips onto his lips, crinkles the corners of his eyes, is all too genuine, all too real. He’ll never let Kaoru see it awake, because now, he bares his softer, gentler feelings, the ones he’s kept hidden for a long, long time. He doesn’t need to burden Kaoru with his heart, not when he’s made it clear he’s never been interested. Not when Kojiro’s so practiced at keeping it locked up where it’s safe in his chest.”OrA follow up to the end of episode nine.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 12
Kudos: 144





	love goes on and on

When Kojiro comes back, bottle of wine in hand, Kaoru is asleep. Slumped over the bar, glasses knocked ever so slightly askew, expression peaceful and smoothed in slumber. 

Kojiro pours two glasses anyway, settling in at his side on a familiar bar seat. He thinks about Adam, talks about him. Talks about _them_ because it’s easier this way, when Kaoru’s there, a comfortable presence, but quiet and settled in sleep. There’s no fighting barbs, no pink flushes and flustering. Just an honest heart, honest words, and a glass of wine. This is easy, it’s comfortable, it’s familiar—this pining, this wanting. This—the two of them sitting in a closed down restaurant into the early hours of the morning—it’s theirs and Kojiro wouldn’t give it up for the world.

He’s glad they have each other, whether they’re called rivals, friends, or something more. The thought sticks in his chest, falls from his tongue. “But, you know, we’re not alone,” he says to no one who can listen, to the warm silence settled over the bar. “Right, Kaoru?” he asks, glancing down at pink hair and closed eyes and bandaged bruises. Gently, he reaches over and slips the glasses off of Kaoru’s nose, folds them and sets them aside. 

The fond smile that slips onto his lips, crinkles the corners of his eyes, is all too genuine, all too real. He’ll never let Kaoru see it awake, because now, he bares his softer, gentler feelings, the ones he’s kept hidden for a long, long time. He doesn’t need to burden Kaoru with his heart, not when he’s made it clear he’s never been interested. Not when Kojiro’s so practiced at keeping it locked up where it’s safe in his chest. 

It’s a well worn feeling at this point, the bottled affection and emotion. It’s carved deep in his bones by time, like the steady flow of water slowly wearing a canyon into rock. Ever since high school, when Kaoru was enamored with Adam and Kojiro just struggled to keep up. But that’s fine. He’ll be okay just like this, with Kaoru at his side. Though, he could do without the bandages and scratches on Kaoru’s face. 

Adam’s dirty trick flashes through his mind again, played out on big screens for everyone to see. The pound of his heart, the grit of his teeth, the dig of his nails into his palms while he watched, helpless, still burns and buzzes, the memory etched into his skin. It was pure fear and adrenaline in his veins, watching the deck of Adam’s skateboard split skin and halt momentum and throw Kaoru to the ground. Then, he wanted nothing more than to run to them, to hit Adam until his knuckles split and bled, to carry and cradle Kaoru somewhere safe, somewhere far away. 

Now, the urge is still there but quieter, something protective and worried still burrowed into his chest. But, seeing Kaoru, alright in the grand scheme of things, settles the restless itch in his limbs. The urge to _do something_ about it all. Instead, he sits at the bar and lets Kaoru sleep. And even though he’s sure Kaoru will wake up with a sore neck and wood grain pressed into his cheek, more than likely in a bad mood, he can’t bring himself to wake him up. He’d carry him to bed, but without Kaoru awake to tell him if he’s jostling any injuries, he doesn’t really want to risk it. So he sits with him while the moon rises and hours pass. 

Kojiro drinks his glass of wine, and when it’s gone, he drinks the second he poured for Kaoru too. He’s drowsy, when both glasses are empty, and it’s getting hard to keep his eyes open in the quiet blanketing the restaurant. And eventually, he folds his arms on the bar, lays his head on them and watches Kaoru sleep, trying not to nod off himself. For a little while longer, Koaru doses peacefully. Eventually, though, Kojiro notices a subtle shift in his expression. His brows start to pull together, lips creasing into a frown. The change, that slant into something uncomfortable, shakes the worst for the weariness from Kojiro. He rubs at his eyes once and sits up, watching a little more attentively now. 

Gradually, harsh lines and shadow draw across Kaoru’s face, and it sets unease prickling across Kojiro’s skin. So, mind looser and more honest with itself early into the morning, he gives in and reaches out, smooths a gentle hand through Kaoru’s hair. Tries to calm the restless rise and fall of his chest. Tries to comfort against whatever’s bothering him, pain or dreams or whatever else it could be.

His heart aches in his chest, and maybe it’s selfish, maybe he’s just sick of seeing Kaoru frown, but he untangles his fingers from rosy locks. His hand falls, instead, to Kaoru’s shoulder and holds gently, shakes gently, trying to wake him up.

Suddenly and with a start, gold eyes blink open, normally so sharp, but hazy and disoriented now. “Adam,” is the only word from Kaoru’s mouth, low, gravelly. Kojiro doesn’t know why, doesn’t know if he was dreaming of their high school days, of the tournament, or something else entirely.

“It’s just you and me,” Kojiro says after a beat, quiet, maybe a little unsure.

He knows he doesn’t imagine the relief in Kaoru’s eyes. The tension that fades from the lines of his body is just as real. And when he blinks again, sits up straighter, he looks a little more clear headed, a little more awake. Though, he’s squinting, absently reaching for his glasses, so Kojiro slides them over. Before he puts them on, he pinches at the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting off a headache, and Kojiro can’t help but snort, hardly stifling a laugh. 

The look that earns him is scathing, but softened by the bleary edges of sleep. “You’ve got a concussion. I doubt that’s going to help,” he says, amused. 

Kaoru only drops his hand and slips on his glasses, looking like he’s chewing on a retort to spit back. He stays mercifully—and rather uncharacteristically—quiet, though, only giving a soft huff and turning away. His gaze strays up to the clock on the wall, and Kojiro’s follows. It’s well past three in the morning, but for a moment, Kojiro doesn’t worry about that, because he’s a little curious, a little concerned. 

“Nightmare?” he asks, and it sounds too loud in the silence. But he’s always been a person of _too much_ , so he leaves it. 

“You could tell?” Kaoru asks, something a little frustrated, a little embarrassed, slipping into his voice. He’s easier to read this way, not putting up so many walls and guards. 

Kojiro just shrugs, just as much an answer as it’s own question, expectant. Waiting for an explanation, he hopes one comes, hopes he’s earned enough trust to hear about it. 

“Well, being hit with Adam’s skateboard wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience,” he offers, smothering a yawn with his hand. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Kojiro says. He winces a little at the thought, honestly surprised Kaoru came out if it as well as he did. Concussion and broken ankle and bruises and all, it could have been a lot worse. 

A car passes by outside, headlights cutting bright through the window. 

“You’re safe here,” Kojiro says, the words out of his mouth before he’s even really thought them through, because it’s suddenly very important to him that Kaoru knows that. S may be Adam’s territory, and he could probably get away with murder or close to it there, but this is Kojiro’s. This restaurant, the messy little apartment above it, they’re Kojiro’s. And as long as they’re his, they may as well be Kaoru’s too. He knows he’s always welcome, any hour of the day or night, and Kojiro needs him to know, too, that it will always be safe for him. 

“I’m glad to know you’ll be here to protect my face from any stray skateboards,” Kaoru quips, dry, crackling with just the beginnings of their usually heat and fire.

Kojiro doesn’t rise to the bait. “I mean it,” he says instead. And before he can say anymore, Kaoru’s gaze eases into a rare softness.

“I know,” Kaoru replies, weighty and honest. Then, so quietly Kojiro can hardly hear him, “Why do you think I came here?” The words come with a dusting of pink across his cheeks, tinging the tips of his ears. 

That stops Kojiro, for a handful of moments. He genuinely didn’t think about why Kaoru might have snuck out of the hospital, why he might have come here of all places. One moment, he was just there in the doorway, and everything felt right again. So Kojiro didn’t question it. He let his heart be at ease, no longer wondering how Kaoru was faring on his own, if he was alright. He drank expensive wine and watched over his injured friend and didn’t think about it, because it all felt right, felt natural. 

Kaoru would laugh at him, make some remark about how _of course he didn’t think at all, didn’t use his head_. 

By the time he sorts his thoughts—all pleasantly warm and rosy with the realization that Kaoru came to him because he knew he could, because he wanted to, because he felt safe—it seems too late to say anything more. So instead, he sits back and stretches his arms up over his head, working out the stiffness from sitting bent over the bar top for so long. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asks, not even bothering to offer up an alternative. Because Kaoru knows what the other option is, unspoken or not. He’s spent enough nights at the restaurant to know he’ll always have a place there. He always takes the bed, usually leaving Kojiro to the couch, but when they’re too drunk to care or when bad nights and dark thoughts come creeping up with a vengeance, there’s enough room for both of them. 

“No,” he answers, decisive, and it’s enough. It’s all he needs to say. 

Kojiro smiles, something soft and fond. That’s just what he’d been hoping to hear. Because, for now, he doesn’t want to let Kaoru go. Not yet. 

Maybe someday, he’ll move on. Maybe someday, he’ll fold his feelings and tuck them away in his back pocket. Maybe he’ll keep them there until he forgets them, forgets what they felt like. He’ll find someone else. Kaoru will find someone else. They’ll leave these night behind, too.

Maybe, someday. 

But not yet. 

Kojiro isn’t quite ready to give this up, and it means _everything_ that he doesn’t have to.

He stands up and the chair legs scrape quietly across the floor. Offering Kaoru a hand, he soaks in the moment, treasures it. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”


End file.
